


Talk later please

by honeywreath



Category: Phandom/The Fantastic Foursome (YouTube RPF)
Genre: Fluff, Hurt/Comfort, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-08-20
Updated: 2019-08-20
Packaged: 2020-09-19 08:47:03
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,366
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20328355
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/honeywreath/pseuds/honeywreath
Summary: He wraps his hand tight around Phil’s wrist.





	Talk later please

“I thought you loved me.”

Dan pouts out his complain, eyes flicking over to the mess before him. 

The counter he spent cleaning meticulously, all day yesterday, is smeared with pale yellow batter, dusted with flour in almost comical, artistic streaks, dirty utensils scattered both on the floor and on the stove itself.

He wants to be mad.

He wants to put up at least a bit of a well warranted fuss for his ruined efforts, but he doesn’t.

Normally, he _ would _be mad, he knows that, but today he isn’t. 

Today, he hasn’t got the space in his tired, fuzzy brain to be mad. No space for anything really, but missing Phil. 

It sounds strange to be missing Phil when he's just a few breaths, four steps away, wiping his hands with a dish rag and smiling at Dan but he is.

He’s missing Phil because Phil had been editing with him, sat to his right till 2am yesterday, their coffees going cold between them.

He's missing Phil because they crashed into bed, half dead and groaning without so much as a good night and without their fingers pleasantly overlapping or even without their sides pressed sweaty and too warm against each other and Dan dozed off before he could shuffle nearer. 

He wanted to shuffle nearer. 

He’s missing Phil because when he woke up the space to his left had been empty and made and he couldn’t turn his face to Phil’s and watch him squint, bleary and mole like and he couldn’t kiss him till he batted him away because they desperately needed to brush their teeth.

He had wanted to kiss Phil as soon as the sun filtered in and on his face.

He’s moping and he's sad and he's missed Phil, he's still missing Phil, because Phil’s stood right in front of him with his Captain America shirt on stupidly, endearingly backwards, his messy bedhead hair in an awful nest, his baggy purple eyes sunken and lazy and his shameless grin ever present where it definitely should be sheepish because he_ knows _ what he did, but maybe it isn’t, because he already knows he’s gotten away with it.

He's missed Phil.

“I _ really _thought you loved me.” 

Dan parrots out a repeat and it sounds too sad to be just a domestic about ruined kitchen counters. 

He doesn’t give a toss about how he just sounds whiny and needy, because he misses being whiny and needy too, after two whole days of being too responsible and bantful and loud with the gaming videos and he misses Phil indulging him.

He misses Phil, period, and he just misses him more when Phil’s eyes grow soft and he reaches up to cup Dan’s cheek. 

He’s still too far away for Dan’s liking and Dan closes his eyes to bask in the touch, very much starved. 

“I do, I do.” 

Phil chants in a too raspy voice for cold empty sheets yet he is warmer and brighter and somehow more brilliant when Dan’s eyes open again.

"I do," Phil repeats as if the words would sound different when Dan's eyes meet his and he's right and they do but they sound too sincere and vulnerable to just be a domestic about ruined kitchen counters.

“Hmm.”

Dan mumbles, sulking because he can't help himself, he forgives instantly though with the kiss he presses into Phil’s palm because he really can't help himself and wonders if everyone sees what he sees, the way Phil’s presence seems to possess a light of it’s own, despite the tired red eyes, despite how his voice is shaky and rough, despite how he tries to hide to protect when he knows he can't and he shouldn't and that he doesn't need to shoulder his burdens on his own, and despite it all he glows. 

How does familiarity fail to dampen his skin with time?

It de-saturates everything else, anything else and to Dan it’s both scary and a relief.

Dan is terrified.

Suddenly and irrationally terrified to lose this one constant to days that pass missing Phil when Phil’s right there yet out of reach and Dan misses Phil too much then, so he wraps his hand tight around Phil’s wrist right where he could leave a little kiss if he were to tilt his head. 

Phil’s thumb traces a half circle under his eye where he knows half moons already cup shapes and Dan feels a little lighter.

“I miss you.” He admits quietly.

“I’m here.” Phil whispers back with a little, barely there but still there smile and it sounds like ‘I miss you too’ and it sounds like he had a cry all alone and that he’s been trying to be brave.

Dan hates that. 

He hates Phil crying alone, even more than he hates missing Phil. 

He’s right here. Phil doesn’t need to be brave.

“Why didn’t you sleep?” 

Dan asks as Phil drifts closer, swaying to him till their toes touch as if Dan is gravity and Phil is helpless to him and it’s things like this that make everything right in the world again when Dan wakes up to an empty left side and well made sheets. 

“I did.” Phil looks caught off-guard when he looks up.

“A little.”

He adds meekly, eyes shifting away from Dan and Dan watches Phil blinks twice, quick and wet with a drop in his chest. 

Dan lets his wrist go then and lets his head fall on top of Phil’s, arms circling around his waist because it's too much hurt to carry, Phil's and his own and Phil sags against his chest as if it’s all he’s been waiting for Dan to do since forever. It's easier like this, when they carry together.

Dan squeezes him tight. 

He’s _ missed _ Phil.

“I love you.” 

Dan says because it’s the loudest thought he has and because he hasn’t got the voice for all the words in his head right now, and because he knows Phil hasn’t got the ears for more, not yet.

“You too,”

Phil sniffs and says nothing else. He simply lets himself be rocked gently in Dan’s arms.

Dan doesn’t ask him what he doesn’t say.

Phil doesn't say what Dan doesn't ask.

Why he hasn’t slept much? or why he’s almost in tears? or why the kitchen’s a mess? but Dan gets a whiff of pancakes and he can feel a smile forming on his collar right under the wet patch on his neck and Phil’s grip on his back is tight where his hands fist in Dan’s shirt, a silent request for a ‘talk later please’ than a ‘talk now or never’. 

Dan concedes, kisses his greasy hair, once and twice and again and again till it turns into a wordless song and lets his palms stretch wide over Phil’s lower back, lets them slide further to his hips and hold gently and sway in rhythm with his kisses and Phil breathes him in, in a shudder of content as they dance without ever changing space. 

There’s nothing Dan likes more than making Phil feel safe. 

Phil shouldn’t feel alone or scared, or scared alone when Dan’s right there. 

Dan shouldn’t be missing Phil, terrified of cold coffee and empty sheets when Phil’s right here as well, but sometimes it’s inevitable for them to get caught up in work, in their own heads, one or the other, or both and Dan just wants to pause time here for a bit.

Here, before Phil breaks away with a wet chuckle and wipes his eyes on his arm and before they dig into cold pancake stacks with cold coffee and before their manager calls for a meeting reminder and before the emotions seep out again, heavy and stumbling and needing more well crafted words and thoughts to aid their resolution.

Dan can pause time though, as long as he sings with kisses into Phil’s hair, as long as the wet patch on his neck needs to dry, as long as missing Phil isn’t a visceral pain in his chest, as long as Phil needs; to not have to be brave by himself anymore.

Dan can sing.

* * *

**Author's Note:**

> I felt sad so i punched this out without thinking much as catharsis lol. Sorry for dumping my feeling here. bye.


End file.
